Miyavi's Hands
by tabithascobra
Summary: chance encounter between Him, Miyavi, and Her, an anonymous fan for the moment, before a show and what happened after. How she is fascinated by his hands, how he is fascinated with her. simple romance between guy and girl. T for language & insinuation
1. how they met

**I DO NOT OWN MIYAVI NOR AM I AFFILIATED WITH HIM IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM!! I'm just a fan with a creative imagination!**

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_After being encouraged by somebody in a chat room on (thanks willkillforcookies), I've decided to continue this into a series. Originally, I planned to just do something that had enough words so I could sign up to be a beta reader, but I'm still short on the requirements, plus I have an idea on how to continue this story. I tried to keep it as anonymous as possible so that the fan can get into the girls shoes as much as possible without having to see somebody else where the fan should be. Kind of like a first person story, but without the annoying first person talking. I WANTED the third person narrator. However, I will NOT be able to keep the story with her anonymous after the first chapter... sorry if you liked it that way... NOTE I own the story and the characters EXCEPTING Miyavi, I am NOT affiliated with him in any way shape or form beyond a fan._

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She was in love. Not in the strictest sense of the word though. Not at this time of her realization. No, in reality, she wasn't in love with the man, or so she told herself. True, he was quite beautiful. His face was smooth and unblemished, putting pretty girls to shame. His whole aura oozed of sex appeal even. Even some boy's swooned at the sight of him. His music had captured her soul a long time ago... However; none of these things were what had captured her so strongly that night.

Slowly, she went over what it wasn't, that had caught her interest. A mans music does not always reflect what is in a man's heart. This she had realized a long time ago by ways she chose not to remember. No, it was not his sex appeal, which made all the other girls around her squirm with pleasure. It was not his face, which created light hearts to skip beats.

She wondered while watching him... what was it that held this girl, three years his junior, riveted in her spot. She almost believed that it was his smile, but she quickly realized that that wasn't what held her attention. She briefly played with the idea that it was his eye's, that twinkled whenever they looked towards her in the crowd, but then she realized he was laughing at the person behind her that was dressed up as a giant onigiri.

Suddenly, he tapped out the beginnings of his next song deftly with his fingers. As if his instrument was not a guitar, but a drum, or a bongo, instead. Her heart flipped. He slapped the neck of his guitar, with one hand, in time with his tapping of the body with his other hand. Her heart flopped. Surely, she thought to herself. Surely this was what made her want to go up to him and pat his hand as if a wife soothing a troubled husband.

The girl watched his hands intently. Silently, inwardly, crying because of what she couldn't do for him. Her thoughts were so focused on the pain she knew he was in that she didn't realize that tears had formed in her eyes and were running down her face. The only thing she realized was that he smiled at her for a brief moment, and then frowned deeply the next.

He was intrigued. Whenever he could, his eyes roamed over to her face in the crowd. Her frown was as intense as her eyes. Why was she frowning at him? He couldn't believe that his music wasn't reaching her. How could anybody not be moved by a song that he had put his heart into? Maybe it wasn't him, he argued with himself. Maybe she was constipated. He laughed to himself

His hands ached from the lack of warming up before the show. He cursed himself for being so forgetful, but moved onto the next song anyway, pretending there wasn't any pain. He would never forgive himself if he did anything less than his best that night. His left hand slid up the neck of the guitar as his right hand kept the beat. Making the instrument cry out in pain, or in pleasure, was what he lived for. His hands cramped up on the next chord.

He stole a quick look towards her. Her eyes were shimmering. He smiled a cheesy grin her way. He looked again and saw a dark track down her cheek. Something was wrong. He frowned and looked harder at her. Why was she crying? A reality check came on when his hands refused to play, luckily, the drummer behind him deftly picked up where he had left off of tapping. He sighed inwardly reminding himself that the show must go on, no matter how much his hands froze up. Looking again, his eye was pulled towards the onigiri costume, which suddenly fell to the floor.

"Hey guys, move back a little bit! Are you ok? Are you ok? Ok? Good!"

She wasn't the one the vocalist was speaking to. Everyone knew the vocalist was talking to onigiri person behind her that had suddenly collapsed. But for a moment, she had thought that HE had been looking at her. She wiped the tear stains away from her face, afraid he had seen them.

The end of the concert had come. She was the last one out of the bathroom, trying to scrub the stains and red away. Coming out of the bathroom, she realized that she was also the last fan in the concert hall. She climbed the stairs, towards the exit. Halfway up the staircase, a voice called out to her.

"OI!"

Turning, she saw the most beautiful, most tattooed, most colorful, most sweaty, most unapproachable man she'd ever seen, walking towards her. She froze as she recognized him.

Concerned about what over possessive fans would do, he beckoned her back down the stairs, away from the exits, away from where all the fans could see them. Not knowing what else to do, she followed him back into the main room where the concert had been not 15 minutes ago. They were not alone, but because the staff was still busy with breaking down the equipment, they might as well have been. He led her over to the bar and motioned for her to sit on a stool as he sat down. For lack of a better place to look, and not wanting to make eye contact, she studied the watermarks on the counter, slowly tracing the lines with one of her fingertips.

"Daijoubu desuka?"

She looked up at him, startled out of her shyness. Blinking, she suddenly realized who she was looking at, and he was looking right back at her. Blushing, she allowed her eyes to drop to her lap, breaking her eye contact with him, whilst noticing a small tear, about the length of a quarter, near the outer thigh of her pants. She fiddled with the hole, making it bigger, trying to remember what little Japanese she knew.

"Eto... aru yo oh kay?"

She stuck her finger into the hole, which had now become approximately the length of a bar of soap. She barely noticed what her hands were doing as her eyes studied his hands, which seemed to be almost formed into the guitar position. She knew instantly that he was still in pain.

Believing his English was crappier than he had realized, he looked despairingly around for his official translator.

"Daijoubu desu, i'm fine, thank you. Um, arigatou gozaimas" her reply was low and quiet.

He grinned for a moment, finally hearing her voice, but then remembered the stains that he saw on her face during the concert. Frowning with concern, he took her chin in hand and checked her face for the lines he was sure he would see there. The only things he saw, though, were two, bright pink cheeks, turning redder by the moment. She looked him in the eye then, startling him in a way that made him drop his hand quickly. He panicked, thinking that he had insulted her somehow.

Slowly, as if she were afraid of scaring a fragile kitten, she boldly, yet gingerly, took his right hand in hers and gently rubbed the back of it as if she were petting that fragile kitten.

He was slightly taken aback when she reached out for him, and yet, her cool, soft fingertips in his sweaty, rough, callused palm were comforting more than disconcerting. He almost pulled away, but her hand held firmly on as she slowly started to massage his fingertips.

"What about you? Are you all right? ...um, daijoubu desuka?" she asked.

His eyes widened and then relaxed as he realized that she was probably more afraid of him than he was of her. It didn't make sense that he be afraid of a fan. Sure, he'd had more than his fair share of over zealous fans, he even knew he had a stalker or two, but he wasn't afraid of them like he was of her. Her power, it was disconcerting. Wincing a bit, he sat back in his stool to allow her to continue squeezing, rubbing, and pinching his hands.

"Arigatou..."

She smiled at his thanks. To help his sore hands to unclench, she took off his rings, and, as gently as possible, slowly pulled each finger out to an almost straight position. She then continued with her task of rubbing and pinching until each his fingers easily moved of their own free will. The ever so slight pain he felt, as she worked through his tensed muscles, was well worth it by the time she was done. Only about 10 minutes had elapsed since she started massaging his right hand, but that had been all the time she needed. She then started working at his left hand.

The whole time she was there, at the bar, no one really stopped working to notice what was happening. They all knew that she was there, just as she was aware of them. She didn't want to think about what they thought, because she just didn't care at that moment. All that was on her mind at that very moment, in her life, was his thin talented hands. She knew, somewhere in her heart, that that was all he was thinking about as well.

Just as slowly as she had eased the ache in his muscles, she started to smile. She couldn't help herself. Stealing a glance she saw his eyes were shut, she looked up at him openly so that she could memorize the moment. Knowing that no one would ever believe her, nor would she want anyone to know that she had gotten this close to him, she continued. She knew she had given him something so, so intimate, so in the moment, so special and private. She was happy. She was happy that this one small moment in time, with him, was hers alone and no one else's. She looked down and concentrated on his hands again.

He kept his eyes only half shut. Not wanting to let her know that he was watching her just as intently, if not more so. Her small smile went from quiet and shy, to bold and cheesy within moments. He liked her shy smile, but her cheesy grin was a part of her that he wouldn't have dismissed for the world. As she looked down again, he noticed her eyes were shimmering. He closed his own eyes for a moment, but snapped them open quickly when he felt something warm and wet on his skin. He understood, then, why her eyes had seemed to shimmer. He jerked himself away from her then and studied his hand.

Bemused, she yelped at his unexpected action and looked up at his face. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at some water on his hand. She froze, realizing that he had noticed what she had not. He had seen the misplaced tear on the back of his hand, where the thumb and his pointer finger met. She stared at it dumbly, her eyes filling up as he brought his attention back to her. The moment had been broken.

"Doshite naite imasu ka?" he asked. She didn't respond. "Ano... why aru yo crying?" she shook her head, unable to respond.

Why, oh why was she upset? He didn't understand. His confusion bothered him. Her tears bothered him. She had still been smiling when she was crying. Now, her smile was gone, and she was crying even harder. Why did he let this girl to him so easily? She was just a girl. Just another fan, he reminded his self. Heck, he didn't even know her name! He became irritated that he should get so worked up about some girl that wasn't even that pretty. She was NOT cute when she cried, he argued with himself. Her face scrunched up and went dark red, she didn't seem to breathe, but her tears kept coming. He watched her cover her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. He became even angrier at himself then, when he realized that he had thought, for even a moment, that she wasn't beautiful. He thought all of this and more within a millisecond of time. He froze as it dawned on him that, whatever it was she was crying about was probably because of something he did.

She watched the emotions flit across his face, one after another. First the confusion, then the irritation, then, a darkness she had never seen on his face in any picture or video footage. What shocked her most however, was the pain she watched take over his face as she let out a small sob. Embarrassed that he should see her break down, she got up and darted towards the exits. She didn't get very far before a hand grabbed her wrist. The pursuer, a young Japanese girl she didn't recognize, was holding her away from where she wanted to run to. She looked where she was being tugged towards. She looked at her captor with a question on her face as to why she was being pulled to the stage, away from the exits.

Not knowing what else to do, and being completely drained from that night's concert, she followed. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that he was still frozen where she had left him. The staff girl kept pulling her until they were behind the stage and in a hallway. The Japanese girl gave her a cursory look before scowling.

"You'll leave through the back exit!" startled by the girls perfect English, she stared at her dumbly. "He wouldn't like it if you were attacked by jealousy crazed fans..." nodding in understanding she followed obediently down the hallway. "By the way, I'm the translator... oh, even if I don't want to say this, thank you. Whatever you did, it relaxed him. I haven't seen him that laid back after a show in quite a while."

As they came to the end of the long hall, they both heard footsteps behind them at the same time. Another staff member, a guy, came running up and said something much to fast for her to catch. The translator said something back just as quickly, looking annoyed. They argued for a moment until finally the man looked triumphant and the translator quite annoyed. She folded her arms and refused move until he was done with whatever he needed to do.

The translator spoke, without looking at her. "Miyavi wants to give you something as gratitude, and he wants you to know that he's sorry if he upset you somehow." quizzically, she looked at the translator, who looked like she wanted to glare her into the ground, and then she looked back at the man who had run up behind them.

Not knowing what else to do, she looked up at the young man expectantly. The man looked at her for a moment before shoving something into her the bone weary hand. It was some sort of paper, slightly damp and crinkled as if it had been crushed in a fist quickly. Before she could look at it any further, her petite guide and translator shoved her out into the crisp cold evening air, and closed the door behind her.


	2. where will she go?

i somehow managed to keep it anonymous again!! go me! sorry, but i don't think I'll be able to do that come next chapter... hope you enjoy! i really don't know where this story is going... but I'm sure my character's will let me know soon enough! BTW! I DON'T OWN Miyavi!! Moe, Daiki, and anyone else beside Miyavi are all fictitious characters that I created!

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notes; dunno if anybody noticed, but i wrote out phonetically how i THINK Miyavi's English would be... 'R's are often sounding like 'L's. 'E's sometimes sound like 'U's, and 'U's sometimes disappear. i decided that I'll leave Miyavi's conversations in English because A i don't know Japanese, and B it'd be a HUGE hassle to translate everything... so when Miyavi is speaking perfect English, it probably means he's speaking Japanese. when there are spatters of Japanese, he's speaking English. now, it's almost 2 in the morning. i need some sleep! extra credit; if you look up the meanings behind Daiki and Moe's names, you'll get a better idea of what they look like!

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Miyavi sat on the bar stool, motionless. She had run away from him. She had run away as if being chased by a demon. His lip twitched at the thought. He knew he was quite a flirt on stage. Hey, he was even quite devilish in bed, or so he had been told. He had done nothing to her though. He hated seeing girls cry. It confused him. As far as he knew, he had done nothing to her besides briefly touching her face. He pondered for a moment longer before deciding that he had just overwhelmed her with his attentions. After coming to this conclusion, he looked around to see where she had gone. Seeing his staff member and long time friend, Daiki, looking at him, Miyavi called him over.

"Daiki, where did that girl go?" he asked his friend, as nonchalantly as possible in his native language.

Daiki look at Miyavi as if he were crazy. "Moe is taking her out the back exit." He responded in Japanese

"What? Why?"

Daiki saw the frustration in his friends face and was slightly alarmed. "It's not safe for her to come out the front exit so long after the show is over. And you let her walk away," Daiki paused. "Or weren't you done with her? You don't usually let them walk away if you're interested..." he stared at Miyavi quizzically, "was that the wrong thing to do?"

Only half listening to what Daiki was saying, miyavi dug around in his pockets, piling things on the bar counter hurriedly. 3 guitar pick's, some US coins, a lint ball, his cell phone, panties a rabid fan threw on the stage between songs, and a random piece of string decorated the countertop. With a look of triumph, he held up a piece of wadded up paper. Finally finding what he was looking for, he flattened the piece of paper and snatched up a pen he spotted on the floor. "No no, what you did was fine. Daiki, do me a favor? Catch up with them, and give the girl with Moe this piece of paper for me?" he folded the paper and handed it to the other man. "Quickly, before she throws the girl out on her butt!" confused, Daiki obligingly took the paper and sprinted down the hall behind the stage.

He caught up with the two right as Moe was opening the back door. They both looked at him as he slowed down and caught his breath. Moe was already irritated with the attention that Miyavi had given the girl next to her, she seriously hoped that whatever Daiki wanted, was not also because of this giant of a girl next to her. "Seriously Daiki, what do you want?" Moe asked quickly with an annoyed tone in her voice.

"He wasn't done with her" he replied having fully caught his breath.

Moe was confused. "What? Of COURSE he was done with her. She walked away from him. He never chases after them after they have talked! Never!"

Daiki was as exasperated as she was. "Look, this is what he wants, so just tell her that he wants to give her something ok? Oh, and tell her he's sorry if he has upset her somehow" he added looking at the girls tear streaked face.

Moe was shocked and hurt. Miyavi had NEVER bothered giving chase to a girl, nor had he ever sent somebody after to give a girl something. He had never had to. When he did not want them, he always said or did the right thing to make them walk, or run, away from him. Moe had always been there to run clean up crew in the aftermath. She was there to catch the brokenhearted idealizers who had just realized that he was not what they thought he was. She was there to grab the angry ones that tried to attack after realizing he was not interested. She was even there when they tried to molest him. She became angry that this girl could be any different from all the others. Of course, his bodyguard was there as well, but she was the one that always had to smooth talk them, or threaten, depending on the situation, into doing what she said. Moe knew better than anyone did, how Miyavi's mind worked, or so she had thought until this moment. How could this girl be any different from any of the others? She glared down the hall, refusing to look at the girl next to her as she translated.

Daiki studied the girl for a moment. Nothing about her was amazing. She was taller than Moe, but most everybody was taller than Moe so that did not surprise him. Her hair was not a crazy lion's mane, that threatened to consume her head whole, like Moe's either. The only thing that stood out, that daiki could see, was her eyes. Though they were slightly red from her crying earlier, he could see that they glittered. She looked at him as openly as he did her. Moe's not so quiet cough broke whatever spell her eyes had had on him. Daiki quickly handed the girl whatever it was Miyavi had wanted to give her and nodded towards Moe. Nodding back, Moe quickly grabbed the still nameless girl and shoved her out the door.

After slamming the door closed harder than she probably needed to, Moe turned her full attention towards Daiki. "And WHAT, pray tell, was so important that Miyavi sent you after her to do a hand over?"

Daiki winced, not only at Moe's accusing tone, but at the answer he was about to give. "You're never going to believe this"

"Try me," Moe challenged as she crossed her arms.

Daiki quickly glanced over at Moe's hostile stance and moved a step away before answering.

Meanwhile, the girl outside, shoved her hand tightly clutching the wadded up paper, back into her pocket. Her other hand tried to cover the now gapping hole on her right thigh which let in a very cool draft. Startled at a loud shout from just inside the building she had just exited, she hurried as quickly as possible towards the public transit system on the other side of the next block. Looking up at an electric billboard nearby, she realized that the time was getting very late. So late, in fact, that she was concerned she would miss her ride home.

How she hated this part of the city. Scratch that, she thought to herself, she hated the city in general. Sure, it was great if you were going to the touristy parts. Overall, the city was always dirty, it smelled like clammy armpit, and hobo's always hung out on every corner.

"I just have to get over to the next block," she reminded herself. Speed walking to the corner, she refused to be intimidated by the dirty old man giving her the once up and down glance she missed the light by mere moments. She wished he would stop staring.

"Spare some change pretty lady?" he grinned an almost toothless grin.

"Sorry, I don't have any to spare." why oh why had she opened her big fat mouth? Why could she not just scowl as she normally did, and keep walking? She berated herself, watching the grime covered man with the corner of her eye. The light changed and she quickly hurried on toward her destination. With a sigh of relief at getting safely to her stop, she stepped down the stairs to the underground system. She ran towards the ticket booth, only to see the last transit pulling away. "NO!" she cried out, but she was too late. She was stuck in the city.

Frozen into shock, she stood just there for a full 10 minutes before realizing that she needed to call somebody to get her out of there. Not wanting to stay any longer than she needed to, she dug through her pockets looking for her phone. She walked back towards the entrance and hesitated. The one person she did not want to call was going to be the only person she knew who would come and get her. weighing her options carefully, she looked at the name lit up on her phone and then looked at the neighborhood she was in. the homeless man that had smiled at her earlier had moved to the same side of the block as her. This made up her mind for her. Hitting the send button, she paced around.

One ring.

A second ring.

A third- the sound cut off.

A very groggy male voice came over the line. "Hello?" BLIP. Her battery died. Tears came to her eyes. Looking around, the homeless man had made his way towards her again. He was halfway to her now and smiling a, to her minds eye, quite malicious smile. Eye widening, she turned around and started walking away from him as quickly as possible. Pretending to look across the street, she checked to see where the man tailing her had gone. He had closed the gap between them a bit. She surmised he could not be more than 20 feet behind her by then.

"Why oh why is this happening to me?" she thought to herself. She turned the corner and saw a bar that, somehow, was still open. Only caring to get away from the man trailing behind her, she dove for the door. She quickly looked behind her to see if the man was still following behind her. He stayed about 15 feet away from the door, a scowl on his face. Finally feeling comfortable enough to tear her eyes away from her stalker, she took in the dark room she had entered.

A few wasted men at the bar took her in, but stayed where they were. The bar tender looked at her. "Something I can get for you Hun?" he inquired, still drying the tumbler he had in his hands.

She looked at the man behind the counter. He was middle aged and had a bit of his potbelly showed underneath his plain white tee shirt. Wisps of what hair he had left stood out in complete disorder. If she had met him anywhere else, she probably would have ignored the man. Fortunately, at this time of crisis, she would not let her pride and bias get in her way of being saved from whatever was outside of that room. "Please sir," she asked. "Do you have a payphone i can use?"

The man grimaced, "sorry Hun, they just pulled the damn thing out this last week."

"Do you have a phone i can borrow then?" she squeaked. "My cell has died and i need to go home tonight!"

The bar tender took pity on her, "yeah, it's at the other end of the counter there." he pointed towards the back of the room.

"Thank you," she sighed with relief. Giving the men at the counter as wide of a berth as possible, she picked up the phone with one hand and held her other hand over the number pad. She froze. Suddenly, she realized that for the life of her, she could not remember a single phone number she ever knew. She giggled at this realization. The men closest to her jumped at her giggle and looked at her. Seeing this unwanted attention coming her way because of her nervous break down, she muffled her laughs as much as possible and looked back towards the bartender.

"Excuse me sir," she asked between gasps of air. "Do you happen to have a phone book?"

The bartender had had enough with this girl by now. "Listen girly," he started. "You can use my phone, you can even use the bathroom over there," he said pointing. "but I don't have a phone book, and don't you dare think about using any 411 numbers on my phone unless you have money right now to pay me back!"

She put the phone down, thanked the bartender again, and walked towards the bathroom. Standing next to the sink, she emptied her pockets. A dead cell phone, a lint ball, 3 pennies, some souvenir buttons she managed to buy at the concert, a guitar pick of Miyavi's she had been able to catch, and a random piece of string. She dug deeper into her pocket. Fishing around until she found a piece of paper that looked like a 10 bill. This would work she assumed as she glanced at it. She came back out of the bathroom, slammed the piece of money down on the counter and went back to the phone.

"Hey!" she jumped and spun around. "What am I supposed to do with this?" the bartender asked her angrily, holding up the legal tender.

She shrugged, "it's money isn't it?" she asked. "To pay for the operator and the phone call."

"Lady this is as useless to me as you are!" the bartender laughed angrily. "This isn't money! Take it back and get out if you aren't gonna use my phone!"

Snatching the note away from the man, she quickly scanned what was in her hand. Flushing with shock she gapped at what was in her hand. Embarrassment took over her feelings. Anger relieved the embarrassment, and then as she realized what she was looking at, relief. She went back over to the phone and dialed in the number on the 10000 Japanese legal tender.

One ring.

A second- the sound cut off.

"Hai, mushi mushi?"

Her breath caught. "Is this Miyavi?"

The other line was quiet for a moment. "Hai, er, yes this is Miyavi," the voice spoke in slightly broken English. "Who is this?"

"This is the girl who gave you a hand massage about 45 minutes ago." She gasped. There was silence on the line. "Hello?" her voice became frantic.

"I'm still here." the voice responded, she breathed a sigh of relief. "solly, I did not think yo would call me back so soon."

She backpedaled slightly. Dear guitar gods, what did he think she was? Some sort of groupie? She decided to keep going forward anyway. "I know, I'm truly sorry to call you so suddenly, but you see, I need help." quickly explaining what had happened and where she was she took a deep breath before asking what she needed to ask. "I know this is extremely presumptuous of me and you probably don't even believe what I'm saying but, I need a ride, or a phonebook, and or a phone. Please help me!" the silence stretched out. She did not move. She did not even breathe. Everything seemed to slow down. Time seemed to have stopped.

"Tell me wheru yo're at again?" Miyavi asked. She sucked in air, not knowing that she had stopped breathing again. As simply as possible, she explained to him how to get to where she was. "Great, we'ru about done here. I'll have oul van swing by theru as soon as we can leave. Eto… It shouldn't be molu than 10 or 15 minutes.

"Thank you so much," she responded as gratefully as possible.

She looked at the clock on the back wall and pretended to be on the phone for another 5 minutes before hanging up. To keep from having to go outside to soon, she headed back to the bathroom, did her business, and thoroughly studied the graffiti on the bathroom stall wall. Knowing she could not stall any longer, she thanked the bartender for his help, though, she thought to herself, he was almost less than helpful. With slightly higher spirits, she slowly headed back outside. Big mistake. The first thing she saw coming outside, was that the homeless man was still waiting right outside the bar for her.


	3. what was her name again?

Thanks for hanging in there everybody! I appreciate those of you who are reading this for the first time, as well as those who have waited patiently for this next chapter! I've made a few slight adjustments here in this chapter. People speaking in Japanese (means I don't know enough to actually write it out in romaji) will be marked with _italics_ and Japanese romaji (meaning this is what you would actually hear if you were right there) will be marked in **bold** so that everyone is on the same page. I am still trying to phonetically spell out what you hear on the Japanese accents as well. If you need translations for the romaji (or if my skewing of the english language is terrible and you want me to know it) write me a note and i'll 'translate' it for you.

NOTE; I do not claim to own the name Miyavi, nor do i know him personally. I have borrowed this person and his name for the enjoyment of others. All other characters excepting this one are my own!!! you steal from Miyavi or any of my characters and i will hunt you down!

Coming out of the private parking lot, two vans, one full of musicians and staff, one filled with instruments and equipment, stopped and waited for the automatic gate to open. Looking out through the front windshield of the first van, Miyavi grinned and waved to the die-hard fans that were waiting patiently outside the venue. From his seat in the back of the 12-passenger van, he could see that they had all stuck around to catch one last glimpse of the singer, and perhaps receive an autograph before he drove away. Even though everyone present knew that the van would not be stopping, he could see the hope, mixed with their adoration of him, in their eyes. Hope that just maybe, the van would stop for them, and they would be acknowledged by their idol. He smiled and waved at the small avid group.

As they passed, one girl, whom he had not seen previously, caught his eye. Something about her just did not go with the crowd he saw with her. She did not wave. She did not look like she was about to freak out upon seeing him in the van. She just stared at him with a bored look. What was up with her? Was she an anti-fan? Did she have an upset stomach? What was it about this girl that was so different? She kept his attention until he had to twist around in his seat to see her.

Tommie waited around for her band friends to finish talking to all the fan girls of ANOTHER musician. She really had not wanted to be there that night. However, the opening band had been friends of hers and they had given her a free ticket a few months beforehand. She had no excuse for not being there. She waited patiently for these friends of hers to be ready to go so they could go eat and talk about the highlights of the night. Excitement buzzed as something electronic started to hum. Turning around, she noticed the two-vehicle caravan pulling through the gated parking lot. She allowed all the girls to jostle in front of her when the vans came parallel to them. She admitted to herself that the main attraction had been better than what she had expected and, she reminded herself, he was quite cute for being so androgynous. With this in mind, she did not feel bad about openly staring as the young Japanese singer, and his entourage, passed. Strangely, it had felt like he was staring right back at her as he had grinned and waved as he left. Tired of waiting around, she shrugged and got into her old, falling apart, '82 Toyota Starlet. She could meet up with her band friends back at the hotel. Where they, and she, were all staying that weekend, she rationalized.

When he could not see the girl any longer, Daiki's voice cut into Miyavi's thoughts, "_so Miyavi-san,_" Daiki started. "_Where is this girl that we're picking up?_" Still slightly preoccupied by the girl he had seen in the group of fans, Miyavi reluctantly twisted back around and repeated what the girl on the phone had told him as well as possible along with the coordinates he had hastily scribbled down on his arm. He had not understood everything she had said, but her feelings of urgency, fear, and needing help had come across perfectly on the phone. Without even thinking, he had agreed to pick her up. He crossed his fingers, hoping that his English, and his understanding of it, had not screwed him up.

Very tired from the concert, not one of 10 people in the van spoke except for Miyavi and Daiki. As they headed the few blocks over, Moe put her feet up on the dashboard and stared intently out the windshield. She only partially listened to her two good friends, sitting behind her, as they chatted about the girl who they were picking up, the concert tonight, along with anything else that came to mind. She could not understand why those two boys were so interested in the girl. She was plain, tall, and a crybaby. Moe smiled remembering how ugly the girl looked when she cried. When she had heard that they were picking the girl up, she had protested, but Miyavi would have his way. "_You can't be serious!_" she had said to his face. "_You don't even know her!_" His face, however, had been quite serious when he looked at her. She had not bothered opening her mouth again, realizing that he would not change his mind. Therefore, she scowled as they drove towards the bar that the girl had mentioned.

Daiki had noticed Moe's foul mood, but understanding why, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he decided to question Miyavi about who they were about to pick up. Looking back at Miyavi from his seat by the door, he asked the one question that was burning a hole on his chapped lips. "_What was that girls name again Myv?_" Daiki asked his friend.

Miyavi, who had been adjusting his beanie on his head, paused for a moment. He broke into a loud laugh, as he realized, he had not gotten even the most simple of information, like her name. "_You know what?_" he gasped between gasps. "_I really don't know!_" Moe turned around in her seat and looked at the unusually tall man, with his legs stretched out in the aisle, in shock.

"_You don't even know her name?_" she gasped.

Daiki laughed at her, "_it's not like YOU asked her name either Moe-chan!_"

"_She didn't?_" Miyavi asked in surprise, now looking at Moe. "_You're usually the one getting into other peoples business and you didn't even ask what her name was?_"

Moe turned red as Daiki, cracking up, explained what had happened in the hallway after she had unceremoniously pushed her out of the building. "_Nope, she surely didn't! She looked at me as if I had asked if you were pregnant, instead of what was her name. Remember Moe?_" he directed his last sentence at the girl in the front seat.

Moe stuck her tongue out at Daiki before looking out of her window again. Feeling put out she began to kick the poor dashboard. Stopping mid dashboard kicking, she sat up straight in her chair. "_Hey!_" Moe suddenly called to the other riders in the van. "_Isn't that your girl right there, running towards us?_" everyone in the van, including Miyavi and Daiki turned to see where Moe was pointing out the windshield. The driver slowed down a bit so that everybody could take a good look.

Stepping out of the bar before peeking out had been a very bad idea, she realized too late. The lone homeless man was now three homeless men, each one different from the other and yet all looking the part of a bum. There was the original toothless man, who smelled as if he had not showered in a month. The second homeless man had a beanie, and seemed to be ready to run away should anyone try to threaten him. The last man was tall, and one could easily believe that he had done terrible things in his past to get the evil grin now spread across his face. She had bolted as soon as they had laid eyes on her.

Miyavi only had to take one glance towards where Moe was pointing before screaming, "_Stop the van!_"

Everything that happened after that, in the van, turned into slow motion as Daiki watched Miyavi pull his seat belt off and jump out of his seat, in one motion, before the vehicle had fully stopped. The driver, taken aback at the shout, slammed on the brakes, throwing everybody forward. Miyavi, who had not been wearing a seat belt and was partially standing up, was thrown forward in the van by inertia. Since it was such close quarters, he tried to catch his self from falling, but could not bring his hands or his feet underneath him quickly enough. Miyavi watched in horror, as the small step in the van, next to the sliding door, came closer and closer to his face. Daiki, who saw what was about to happen, stretched his own hands out to catch the man who was now almost perpendicular to the floor, but was only quick enough to catch one upper arm that was flailing about. Daiki had been able to catch the bigger man and stop his face from becoming a bloody mess, but not the right side of his body from slamming into the small hole of a step. Grateful for the help, but still in too much of a hurry, he nodded his thanks to Daiki. Ignoring the pain now in his left shoulder, from being wrenched behind his body, Miyavi jumped up and pulled the door open. Both Miyavi and Daiki jumped from the van and ran towards the girl coming towards them. Behind her, they could see three homeless men.

Blinded by her fear, she did not at first; recognize the two tall men in front, now rushing towards her. Their animosity towards the men behind her fogged the idea that they were the Calvary that she so wished and needed. Shrieking at what she thought was an attack from both sides; she crouched down into the fetal position and covered her head with her arms. "Just leave me alone!" she screamed at the ground. The two pairs of unfamiliar footsteps, in front, reached her first and then kept running past her and stopped just a few feet beyond her peripheral vision. She looked partially up from where she crouched, slightly confused.

Another, lighter, pair of feet ran up, and, before she could take a good look at the owner, a hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her slightly up before wrapping her in a hug. She yelped in fright and tried to get away, but the arms only held her tighter. Coming to her senses, the girl looked at the shorter person, and instantly recognized the shaggy head of the translator from earlier. Relief washed over her as she now clung on to one of her rescuers. Holding tightly to the smaller woman in her arms, she chanced a quick glance behind her to see what had happened to her pursuers. Eyes widening, she buried her head back into the waiting shoulder there. The image of the young man, she had not caught the name of earlier, and Miyavi, both looming over the dirty homeless men in a threatening way, was now burned into her mind.

Daiki and Miyavi were of the same mind as they blocked the path of her chasers. Both men had not expected her to be frightened of them as well, but they would deal with that later. Moe, who had jumped out of the car along with everybody else, had run after them on a whim and was now holding the terrified girl in her arms. The other people that had also been in the van, now seeing what was happening, ran to their friends for whatever back up they may need.

As soon as the man with the beanie had seen the strange punk-like looking man jump out of the van he had hesitated, but did not truly stop until he saw the second man, not as tall, but built like a football player, jump out as well. More people were now coming towards him and his cohorts, so he quickly planned his escape. . "Hey guys," the man called out as he backed away. "I didn't do anything! Just wanted to ask the lady if she had any change is all." he kept his hands suspended in the air as he spoke and walked backwards, almost as if somebody had pointed a weapon at his chest. The other two homeless men, seeing how badly outnumbered they were about to be, also came to a stop as the one with the beanie made his get away as quickly as possible. The other two stayed silent as they sized up the growing group in front of them, weighing their options.

Miyavi glared at them, understanding only part of what the man had yelled, but he knew enough to understand, along with his body language, that at least one man in front of him and Daiki was backing down. Daiki, however, did not understand a lick of English, and so took a threatening step forward. "**Matte!**" Miyavi warned his pal while sticking his arm in front of the burlesque man next to his self. Daiki looked at the taller man in confusion but did as asked.

"_Everything all right Miyavi-san_?" Miyavi's small band of staff and collaborating musicians, who had also been in the van, all stood behind Moe a few feet away watching what was happening intently. They looked ready to jump in should he say the word. Grateful for the willingness to help, but not ready to call for back up, Miyavi nodded his head to let them know he was fine. He silently watched as the toothless man slowly slunk away from their challengers. The tall hard man looked more reluctant but followed quickly after, glaring the whole time.

Moe gasped for breath in the taller girls iron grip. Why, oh why, had she so quickly come to this nameless girls rescue? She asked herself. Getting the girls attention, she smiled an apologetic smile up at her. Right away, the girl she had grabbed loosened her death grip from around Moe's neck. "Do you want us to call the police?" Moe asked in her almost perfect English. "They are all still close enough for us to grab if you want us to."

She shook her head no, "we don't know if their armed," she whispered. "Just let it be for now."

With the homeless men out of site, Miyavi and Daiki walked slowly back towards the waiting party behind them, always keeping a wary eye out where the men had disappeared. "_Everything all right?_" Daiki asked first, looking between the two girls.

"_We're fine,_" Moe responded for them both. "_Let's just get out of here._"

Still caught in a tight hug, the girl in Moe's arms could only see the driver of the cargo van, behind the passenger van, since they had also stopped when the passenger van had. He jumped back into the driver's seat and waited for his single passenger to jump in and strap on his seatbelt. Moe brought her back to where she was with a tap on the back. "It's kind of hard to walk with you holding me like this…"

"**Ah! Gomenesai!**" The girl cried, releasing Moe completely from her bear hug. The twelve people around her laughed softly, and one of them then headed towards the cargo van.

"If you could just drop me off at the nearest twenty four hour store or a police station or something, I can make a call there and then I'll be out of you hair." They had been walking towards the van. At her matter of fact statement, Moe froze. She looked at the girl as if she had a third eye on her chin.

Miyavi, who had also heard her, spun around and scowled. "We cann take yo back to our hoter. Yo cann make terrefono carr there."

"Oh. Thank you." She blushed.

Daiki smiled kindly at her. With his best English, he asked the one question none had bothered to ask but everyone wanted an answer to. "**Eto, **what ees yo namo?"

"Pardon?"

"We don't know your name…" Moe explained.

"Oh…" She smiled shyly. "It's Tru."


End file.
